


Riding Out the Storm

by BeaRyan



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, consensual heterosexual sex, happy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 03:41:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeaRyan/pseuds/BeaRyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie and Jason find ways to pass the time while waiting out bad weather.  This story takes place just before The Longest Day (the one where Charlie and Jason were nearly killed in a drone strike). One shot Jarlie PWP if you're only reading it here.  The explicit version of Chapter 9 of Campfire Games if you started that on FFN.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Riding Out the Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Campfire Games](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/24327) by BeaRyan. 



> This story began on FFN and blew through the ceiling of their rating guide. To sum up the relevant parts so far, Charlie and Jason got caught in a storm. Soaked and freezing, they took shelter in an empty house, scavenged some dry clothes, and crawled into bed to try to warm up.

Charlie awoke to find Jason's body, too hot and slightly sweaty, curled around her back. His arm was casually draped over her hip and his thumb brushed her navel. His deep, steady breathing told her he was asleep, but she was uncomfortably warm. She shifted, trying to put a bit of space between them, but he curled in tighter, his full palm caressing her stomach and sliding upwards, under her shirt and toward her ribcage. Her breath caught at the touch. She lay still for a bit longer, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against her back. 

When she shifted her hips again, she felt his press into hers in response and heard a low moan from deep in his throat. A smile bloomed on her face as she realized the power she had over him even as he slept. She wiggled again and noticed an unmistakable, hardening bulge in his pants. She stilled after that, afraid of awakening him and ruining her game, but a few minutes later she felt his hand caress her hip and thigh and couldn't resist giving a slight grind to the lap pressed into her from behind. She felt his erection twitch in response. A low, needy sound escaped his lips as they pressed into the back of her neck. 

She couldn't resist the game now, his moans empowering her as his hand sleepily roamed her body. When he slipped it under her shirt, stoking first one breast and then the other, pebbling both nipples with gentle touches of his callused fingers, she allowed it. The sounds he made, wanton and guttural, in response to each roll of her hips were like nothing she'd heard before and knowing she'd inspired them made her work harder to earn each one. Nothing but his thin cotton pants with their failing elastic kept their flesh apart and she wiggled up as often as down to keep from accidentally peeling them off of him. 

She was wet and aching and wondered if she could take care of her own tension without waking him. She lifted one knee to allow herself access and felt his hand immediately slide into the space she'd created, stroking her nub, wet from her own desire. He ground his hips insistently into her from behind, his erection stroking firmly between her cheeks and moaned, “Charlie.” 

“Are you awake?” she whispered.

He rolled her onto her back and settled his thighs between hers in one smooth motion. “Am I awake? I'd have to be dead not to wake up for that.” 

“Oh,” she responded, biting her lower lip.

He took her hand in his, planting a kiss in her palm before asking, “Do you want to feel what you've done to me?”

Charlie blushed, but her hand drifted downward, stroking the tower she'd built. She watched the light in his eyes and the changes in his expression as she tentatively stroked him working up the nerve to slip her hand inside his pants. His body hovered above hers, his strong arms and increasingly tense muscles providing the only space between them. Charlie reveled in her power as she took full control of him, making him twitch, sigh, and groan, with only her hand. Too soon, he pulled out of her grasp, flushed, panting, and not yet finished. He rested his head on her chest as he fought to regain control of himself. 

“I wasn't done,” she protested. 

“I was about to be,” he answered.

Charlie blushed. She knew what she needed to say now but wasn't eager to do it. Although she'd been gladly handling his cock a moment ago, a discussion about sperm counts seemed to personal. Maggie's words, spoken so firmly and often, echoed in her head. “Prevention is far easier than pregnancy.” She closed her eyes and plowed ahead. 

“It's somewhat safer if we... um... clean your rifle first. You're young; it will come back. Right?”

It took Jason a moment, but understanding eventually dawned. “You want to, uh, wash out the strongest swimmers first? I've never heard that before.” 

“Maggie reverse engineered it from advice for getting the opposite result.” Charlie paused to wonder if perhaps Maggie hadn't hoped she'd leave it at mutual handjobs. Either way, better safe than pregnant and she was curious. She'd done well so far using what she remembered from a few paperback novels. She wondered if she could do this too. Seeing Jason's hard member and soft expressions in response to her touches had been thrilling so far and he was being the version of himself that she liked today. 

"OK. If that's what you want, I can take care of that," Jason said. He was surprised by the request but pleased to hear it suggested that he'd be having sex this afternoon. Things had looked so bleak earlier and now here he was reaching for his cock, hopeful that even better things were in store for it later.  
"I want to take care of it," Charlie said, reaching for him. Jason didn't object. Eagerly he helped her shuck off his pants. As her mouth wrapped abound the head of his penis and her hand gripped the shaft, he began to argue with himself. Should he do the gentlemanly thing and end this as soon as possible or was it OK to try to hold on for a while and enjoy the moment? God only knew when his would happen again. She looked up at him with his dick still in her mouth and their eyes met. He held his breath as the current flowed between them. He could almost feel her soul inside his brain and the sight of her mouth around his shaft was a killer. Decision made. He would hold on as long as possible and he was still going to be done quickly. Slowly she moved down, licking the seam of his shaft from root to tip, swirling her tongue around the head, teasing the flare and licking slit before again meeting his eyes. When she moved back down to the base and repeated the maneuver, he was done as soon as the hit the V at the head. He turned slightly, aiming away from her face, as he erupted.  
Finally spent, he opened his eyes and released his grip on the sheets that had been twisted in his hands. He found her lying beside him and smiling.  
“So I guess I did OK?” she said.  
“That was amazing.”  
“Good, because you get to help me wash it out of my hair.”  
Jason looked at the dark spots in her hair and knew they'd dry to be stiff. “Sorry about that. Let's wash up later, OK? You've been driving me wild for an hour. It's my turn to return the favor.”  
He took the time to kiss the spot on her neck that he knew she liked but didn't linger there. There was too much of her body that he wanted to explore. They had privacy and a bed, a rare and luxurious combination, and he didn't intend to waste it. 

His mouth moved to her nipples, hard pink buds of desire, and he scraped one gently with his teeth. She arched her back off the bed in response and cried out, “Jason,” her voice thick and ragged. He pressed a gentle kiss into her cleavage before moving on to her neglected nipple and getting the same response. He trailed kisses down her belly, stopping to slowly blow on hot breath into her lower, honey colored curls. Again she cried out, “Jason,” her voice wild and unsteady.

Quickly he moved back up the length of her body, his expression tense, and looked gently into the stormy blue of her eyes.

“Charlie, I love to hear you say my name, but if what you mean is 'stop' then you need to say 'stop' and I will.” 

Her hand came up to caress his cheek before threading into his hair. She said, “More.” 

The tension left his face, replaced by an exuberant smile. “More? I can do more.”

“More,” she confirmed. 

As Jason's lips worked their way down her body, his mind seized. Was this really happening? Was he capable of pulling this off? Sure, he'd been around the block a few times but in retrospect it had always been something of a guided tour. The women of Philadelphia who were interested in a Lieutenant, a Captain's son who was out of town more than in, knew they had limited time to make an impression and they didn't waste it. He was no virgin, but he also wasn't entirely sure what to do without a woman who was moaning directions and encouragement. Charlie was eager but definitely different from what he'd known before. 

He dove face first into her golden lower curls, licking for all he was worth, and she dissolved into giggles. He rested his head on her inner thigh to avoid her gaze, his face scrunched in humiliation, and waited for the laughter to stop. 

“It's not you,” she managed to say between chuckles. “It's just weird.” 

“You still have my cum in your hair and this is weird?”

“It's a tongue. Yeah, it feels weird. It's only ever been fingers. My fingers. This is different.” 

Jason's mind grabbed at that information and tried to decide if she was a virgin or if she'd only ever had lazy lovers. Either way he was relieved to know he would look good in comparison if he could just get this part right. Tongues were different from fingers he admitted. Awesome, but different. Getting her off was a mission now and he'd never failed on a mission. 

“Show me how to touch you,” he ordered. 

Charlie looked at him and saw that her gentle Jason was gone. Lieutenant Neville had taken his place. His eyes were guarded, his expression somewhere between confident and smug and he held his body stiffly, as if he was ready to attack her pussy as soon as he had the proper command. She felt tears welling up and wondered if she could shove them down. She didn't have a greater purpose to focus on this time. She'd wound up naked under the wrong man. It was a mistake so stereotypical it made her feel pathetic. She liked Jason, but Lieutenant Neville, as she thought of the other side him, was a part of the package and she only wanted Jason right now. 

Jason felt the change in her mood, and his own frame of mind shifted to allow him to respond. He sprang back up beside her, gently wiping away the tear that had begun to fall.

“Hey? What? No,” he said, stumbling over words as he tried to make sense of the situation. “What happened? Why are you crying?”

“You left me,” she accused. 

“What? I'm right here. It's OK,” he promised. 

“No. You left me. My Jason was gone and the soldier took over. He's a good guy to have with you in the field, but here, for this, I want MY Jason. 

Jason had never given much thought to the compartments of his personality. He'd learned to turn off parts of himself in the first year of the blackout. There was a wall he had to put up when he did what he sometimes had to do and when he didn't he felt crushed by his own guilt. The fact that he was following orders or it was a kill or be killed choice didn't matter. The nice guy sometimes had to be boxed up so the soldier could take care of business. 

His friends and his mother used to help him keep the balance. Now Charlie was the only one who spent any time with this side of him. Not just that, she liked it. She didn't value him for his ability to take down a target or acquire information; she just liked goofy, emotional Jason. 

“Tell me what to do to fix this,” he pleaded. 

Charlie looked into his eyes, the corners pinched with concern, and saw that not only was her Jason back, he was distraught. This was the aspiring hero who'd gotten cuffed to a pole when he couldn't let a damsel in distress languish with a fake twisted ankle. 

“Kiss me.” 

Gently, trying to hide his fear that this might be their last kiss, his lips met hers. Softly and tentatively, they reconnected, starting slowly, stoking the fire kindled in kisses and letting it grow as they added hands and then the rest of their bodies to the dance. This time their physical cravings were part of the event, rather than the drive behind it. Legs tangled and hands roamed. They lay side by side, kissing, exploring each other, equal partners in the moment. Eventually Charlie rolled him onto his back and straddled his hips, sliding his hardness between her wet soft folds. He gripped her hips, enjoying the friction as she slid along him, the pressure right on the edge between too much and not enough. 

The next time their eyes met, she leaned down and whispered in his ear, “Why isn't it going in?”

He almost laughed, but he looked at his precious girl and knew she truly didn't understand. “The angle is wrong,” he said. “Are you sure you want this?” 

She kissed him in response, biting his lip as she pulled back enough for him to see her smile. “Lift your hips a little,” he said. He reached between them, aligning himself with her opening. “You're sure?” he asked again. 

She smiled wickedly before lowering herself onto him. Her eyes blew wide and her lips parted in a soundless gasp. 

“Is it OK?” he asked.

“You're inside me,” she said in reply, shock evident in her tone. 

“I'm as close to you as I can get,” he answered. “Kiss me.”

She leaned down and met his lips, but her concentration was still elsewhere. Slowly he tried to work his hips, to grind her back into a state of need and past the feeling of invasion and fullness, but he was pinned beneath her and she wasn't giving him much space to move. 

“What am I supposed to do?” she asked. “I mean, I know I should move but how?”

“However you like,” he answered, reaching up to stroke her nipple as it hovered above him. 

“Be more specific,” she complained. 

Jason looked at her confused face and remembered teaching her to use a long bow instead of a crossbow on the walk from Wisconsin to Chicago. Just give her enough information to experiment and she'll find her way from there, he told himself. Aloud he said, “Knees or feet on the bed. Use your hands to brace yourself on my chest of my hands. Lean as far forward or back as works for you.” 

Charlie took the information and ran with it, testing angles, speed, and depth until she finally hit her stride, leaning back so he pressed into her G spot as she pounded out her rhythm. She panted erratically as she sought her peak, moaning on both the up and down stroke but unable to crest the mountain. She bit her lip and rode desperately, clenching Jason's hands for balance and leverage. 

The movement wasn't quite right for Jason, but he loved to see her move. The bounce of her breasts and the craving on her face were intoxicating. He brought one of their entwined hands to his mouth, sucking her fingers, before moving the hand to her sex, silently encouraging her to touch herself. 

“Are you close?” she asked. 

“This is your turn,” he answered.

Turmoil crossed her face briefly before she gave into her own desire. She rode his cock and stroked herself, tying the tension into knots before the thread finally broke. Her muscles convulsed and she gasped for breath, riding waves of pleasure as she rode her lover. Her hips stilled. She was still impaled on his cock, but her muscles squeezed him in aftershocks of ecstasy. She gave him a radiant smile before collapsing on top of him with a kiss. 

“That was amazing,” she declared. 

“We aren't done.” 

“We aren't?”

He didn't answer with words. He hooked his leg around her and rolled them, still joined together, until she was pinned beneath him. 

“More?” she asked.

“More,” he answered, but he knew it wouldn't be much more. He began to move inside her, and she braced her feet on the bed in a classic missionary position. “If you move your legs, it changes the angle,” he whispered and gently bit her earlobe. Then she began to experiment. When she found the position she liked, she wrapped her legs around him, holding him into her the way she liked it. He stayed with the position she preferred but found his own tempo, her mews letting him know that she liked it too. Tension wound in both of them. 

Charlie threaded one hand in his hair and ran the other along his back, leaving a trail a welts in the path of her nails. His mind barely registered thought. “This feels amazing. She seems happy,” was the extent of his consciousness until he felt her first pulse around his cock, squeezing him to his point of no return. 

He leaned down to kiss her as he pulled out, her cry of, “No!” lost in the crush of his lips. She was left convulsing on empty space while he spilled on her hip. 

Afterwards she confessed, “I didn't like ending with you so far away.” 

He ran a hand through her hair and answered, “Then let's finish overthrowing the government, get married, and work on making babies.” Her eyes blew wide and he laughed. “That or we can find some sheep gut.” 

Charlie had heard about sheep gut, condoms once you cut it to the right length and tied a knot in the end, but she wondered if he was serious about the rest. She hadn't seen a sheep in six months but condoms still seemed more real, more possible, than a typical life. She tried to picture Jason milking a cow and couldn't do it. Maybe they could make whiskey and open a bar. At least Miles would come visit if they had an unlimited liquor supply. 

She rested her head on Jason's chest and listened as the beats of it slowed and returned to normal. His hand caressed her face and he mumbled sleepily, “Pillow talk. I owe you pillow talk.” 

She almost laughed at Lieutenant Neville, stepping in to enforce proper procedure when Jason was too worn out to do it. She knew she could get him, them really, to say or promise anything right now. She didn't want to. She knew he tried to be honest, tried to do the right thing; he just wasn't always good at it. Too often he could only be one of the two men that lived in him and sometimes, even on Miles's orders, Lieutenant Neville was required. He was a means to an end. For now, she'd let Jason be honest, concerned, and kind. 

“I just want to snuggle and take a nap,” she said. 

He smiled at her and she felt his hands roam her back and hips, intimate and affectionate, before one landed in her hair, guiding her to him for a kiss. 

“You already know,” he said, “But I won't be the first one to say it.” 

“We'll get there,” she promised. 

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Charlie winced as she mounted her horse. She hadn't thought about the long ride back to the base as they'd enjoyed the afternoon, but now she almost regretted their enthusiasm. Almost. 

“What do we tell Miles when we get back?” she asked. 

“We tell him you're insatiable and I need a day off to recover from the things you did to me,” he answered. 

“Jason!” 

He laughed in response. “We tell him we found somewhere to wait out the storm and then we came back as fast as we could.” 

“Do we try to get the same assignment tomorrow?” she asked, attempting to get comfortable in her saddle and failing. 

“Perimeter patrol,” he answered. “The east border, near the well, has that stone bell tower. Four walls, a comfortable chair, and we won't have to ride horses to get there. 

She smiled at the thought of the cool stone on her back as Jason pressed into her. Tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Guest comments are on, so you can leave advice and requests without leaving a name. This story is getting a lot of guest kudos and I'm not sure why. Mildly awkward sex seems authentic? You want more Jarlie? More fluff? You followed this over from FFN and...? My muse is lazy at the moment so if I knew what people wanted to read I'd be more likely to write it. Thanks.


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